The Party Chest
by Imperator Rex
Summary: The Warden and company meet a powerful artifact that could help them on their quest. Or possibly just eat them. DISCLAIMER I don't own anything in this story which is for (hopefully) enjoyment purposes only.
1. First Encounters

_I hope you all like this and the spelling and grammar isn't completely awful. I own nothing._

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About half a day out from Flemeth's hut Alistair, Morrigan and the newly anointed Warden Brosca heard the sounds of battle up ahead. By the time they reached the source however the fight was over and they were met with a very strange sight. A large Mabari war hound was, rather gingerly, sniffing a large wooden chest in the middle of the road.

"What happened to the brawl?" muttered Odin Brosca slowly lowering his mace and dagger.

"Well" replied Alistair "that's defiantly Darkspawn blood on the road, the smell alone is a dead giveaway but no bodies" he paused. "You don't think the dog ate them do you?"

"Do not be a fool" snapped Morrigan rolling her golden eyes "One dog cannot eat entire Darkspawn and certainly not in less than five minutes! Still tis curious…"

At this point the debate over the missing corpses was abruptly cut short as the Luggage (to go by its' official name) opened its' lid revealing a set of large white square teeth and bright red tongue. Before this bizarre sight could be comprehended by anyone it was immediately followed by a loud belch heard by everyone in the vicinity. The dog promptly yelped and hid behind the nearest fencepost. The others just stared.

"Did that chest just belch?" asked Alistair, the grip on his sword tightening.

"Yes" answered Brosca.

"And it has teeth?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Really?"

"Yes"

_"__Really?"_

"Yes"

"That doesn't strike you as a bit odd?"

"I've spent the last few weeks wondering across a land with a _sky_ that _somehow _leaks water and changes colour on a regular basis depending on a giant floating ball of fire, all the while surrounded by clusters of giant green plants and people that constantly loom over me. I assumed that Darkspawn eating furniture was just another surface thing."

Alistair mouth opened and closed again trying to come up with a response to this.

Morrigan meanwhile had apparently recovered enough to say "whatever is responsible for this… it is clear that powerful magic is involved. It might well be worth keeping and studying."

"Or at least selling" replied Odin then, noticing Morrigan's glare "for a very good price of course, I'm quite a persuasive haggler."

"Do neither of you think that a carnivorous chest monster might be dangerous!?" exclaimed Alistair, whose sword remained firmly pointed at his target "If it is created by magic we should either destroy it or hand it over to the Templars."

"What a surprise" cackled Morrigan "the failed Templar abandons any chance of knowledge or understanding for fear of magic imposed on him by the Chantry."

The dog meanwhile had slowly emerged from behind the fencepost to once again sniff the strange wooden thing that had eaten the dark ones. It was very confusing but it didn't smell evil (unlike the dark ones) and his nose had never let him down before. Of course when the wooden thing stood up on its own large number of legs and appeared to stretch the Mabari wisely backed off.

The other three again stopped talking and stared at the now visible and entirely functional legs.

"Hmm this gets more and more interesting." Was the first response from Morrigan.

"Well that makes things easier; we won't have to carry it." Pronounced Odin "Just as well; our backpacks are getting rather heavy."

"You want to take a _walking, man eating _trunk with us!?"Alistair once again exclaimed.

"Well we can hardly let it randomly wonder the surface devouring travellers. Besides so far we only know it eats Darkspawn, which sounds damn useful to me. As I said back at Flemeth's we need all the help we can get." Odin paused, stroking large, rather unkempt, red beard in thought. "We'll see how it goes; this village is still miles away and we need to set up camp. If this chest can behave we keep it, if not firewood."

The Luggage itself seemed to flinch at the mention of 'firewood'.

"It does appear to understand what we are saying, not unlike this hound." Speculated Morrigan shrewdly "If so it can be reasoned with and perhaps could be used in battle."

"In that case" declared Odin as he turned back towards the trunk "can you understand us?"

The trunk of the Luggage performed an awkward but unmistakable nod.

"Do you want to join us?"

Another nod

"Are you going to eat us?"

This time the luggage shook itself in what was interpreted as a 'no'.

"Fair enough"

"That's it?" Alistair said in a slightly shrill voice "what if it just waits for us to fall asleep?"

"Well we going to need to keep watch for Darkspawn and bandits anyway, now we have another very good reason to stand guard." Explained Brosca

Alistair's shoulders slumped in defeat "All right but if we get eaten in the middle of the night I can't wait to say I told you so." He paused "You know what I mean."

The Mabari meanwhile, feeling a bit left out, barked impatiently.

Odin turned to the dog "You're the one from the camp at Ostagar aren't you? Well you can come along as well."

Alistair smiled "Well if we're going to have man-eating chest it makes sense to have a man-eating war hound, just to complete the set of course."

Morrigan groaned at this while Odin smiled and said "My thoughts exactly, now let's get some food, some sleep and I guess I need to think of a name for the dog."

And so the small, rather odd group left the road for a small clearing. The currently unnamed Mabari was still mightily confused by the wooden thing and its' strange scuttling legs decided to stay on the opposite end of the group from it. At least for the time being.

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Night had fallen and Odin Brosca had just settled into his sleeping roll, deeply grateful of the fact that he had a roof over his head (even if it was made of flimsy cloth) when he heard it.

"Ouch! Why you little…"

Sighing Odin got up and poked his head through the tent flap.

"Alistair? What's going on?"

"Your wooden friend here just attempted to maul my feet!"

"Any permanent damage?"

"Well no, but it's just eaten my last dry pair of socks!"

Odin stared "That box gets stranger by the minute; first Darkspawn and now clothing. Almost as bad as Deepstalkers and they eat anything."

Alistair replied "Are you sure it was a good idea to let it wonder around our camp?"

The luggage promptly issued a dog-like growl towards Alistair and spat both socks in his face.

"Hey!" exclaimed Alistair then stopped "Oh my socks" he stopped again "and there're…clean." Clean was somewhat understating it. From the filthy, mud encrusted (but admittedly dry) items they had been the socks in question were now spotless. They also had a faint lavender scent.

"So you can do free laundry?" Odin asked the chest. The Luggage nodded "Ha! And you didn't want to keep it!"

"All right that is pretty handy." Alistair conceded then nervously patted the Luggage on the lid "er…good chest. All the same we should probably not enter Lothering with it if it's staying with us." Alistair continued.

"True enough" agreed Odin "anyway I'm gonna get some shut eye, wake me up when it's my turn to keep watch."

Unbeknownst to the rest of the party Morrigan had listened in and seen the encounter with the now passive wooden chest. The expression on her face, still masked by shadow could easily be compared to a hungry wolf finding a fresh bacon sandwich.

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_So once again I'm on the wrong side of the law and I've got a bounty on my head _mused Odin as the group trudged out of Lothering. _Whatever happened at Ostagar its clear this Loghain needed scapegoats and the mostly dead Grey Wardens are the perfect candidates, typical. _Despite this unwelcome news their visit to Lothering had been a success. Odin had more money in his pouch than he had ever seen (as well as a fine new sword he had given to Alistair) mostly thanks to the loot he had sold and the human's Chantry Board. It was even more gratifying to know that he had acquired it without needed to beat any poor bastard down or immediately hand it over to his old Carta bosses. In all, and despite the accusations of treachery and regicide, being a Grey Warden was great.

Now they just needed to track done their walking luggage and they could move on. _Probably should try and explain that to the new additions_ thought the responsible part of Odin's mind o_r don't and watch the fun_ said another more mischievous voice. He looked over to his newest companions in this increasingly strange group. Mind you both of them were pretty weird in their own right. First was human woman, Leliana, who claimed to have visions and for some reason was living in a remote human temple. Odin couldn't claim to know much about the Chantry but he was pretty sure that most of the priestesses weren't trained with knives, lock picking, archery or brewing poisons. _She's got a shady past, I can practically taste it_ he had thought after talking with her at the pub, and perhaps that's why he chose to accept her offer. She had certainly proven her worth so far, not least in securing the release of their second new recruit. Sten might be a murderer who was twice his height but leaving him as Darkspawn bait in a cage was just sadistic. _Besides if he goes crazy I can take him down _Odin considered with no false modesty._ The taller the opponent the easier they are to hamstring, and he's really bloody tall_.

"You two should probably hear about our other group member" said Odin, the responsible part of his brain eventually winning the fight.

Morrigan smirked, watching the conversation with an air of smug amusement, while Alistair looked apprehensive.

"Oh?" replied Leliana "who is he…or is it she and why haven't we met yet?"

"Well we don't know whether it's a he or a she" began Alistair.

Suddenly, and with a truly perfect sense of dramatic timing, the Luggage rampaged through the nearest hedgerow appearing a few feet in front of the group. A longbow and a two handed sword were immediately drawn.

"Hold it!" commanded Odin "That's the group member we were just about to discuss."

As weapons were slowly lowered Leliana wondered "Is this magic… or perhaps a new dwarf invention?"

"Much as I'd like to take credit we've got no idea" explained Odin "we found it on the road, its clever enough to understand us and it eats Darkspawn."

"And it does laundry!" Alistair helpfully added.

"The Maker's world is full of mysteries." Was Leliana's eventual response, after a slightly more detailed explanation and a lengthy pause. "This gift proves we are doing his work."

"Bah" said Morrigan, doing an unwittingly accurate impersonation of her mother "All it proves is power of Magic and those who use it."

"It is Saarebas trickery nothing more." Grumbled Sten, as he continued to adjust his pack, "Can we move on from here? The Darkspawn are waiting."

"It's true, the Darkspawn aren't known for their patience" agreed Alistair "but where are we going?"

"West to Redcliff" decided Odin "even if this Arl Eamon is sick and unable to help his town would be a good stop off point, a nice rest for us all."

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	2. Quests and Traps

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"What was it you said?"

"I know."

''A nice rest for us all?''

"Well how was I supposed to know the town was being attacked by the walking dead?"

Morrigan smirked "By now warden you should have learnt that tis not wise to tempt fate like that."

"Dually noted."

As annoying as this conversation was at least Morrigan had stopped complaining about the fact that he had decided to help the village. As well as a few tasks from some of the residents. _Well it is the sensible choice; if this town gets destroyed it can't help against the Darkspawn. _ Odin had this rationalised to himself. _Also a few had mentioned a reward; at the very least I can get free ale off that pretty barmaid Bella. _

So he and his gang had been running around the village all day. He had persuaded the Blacksmith to do his job. He persuaded that overly eager child to go back to his sister and let him borrow his grandfather's sword. He had persuaded that priest to give a few worthless trinkets to those superstitious knights. He had 'persuaded' that surface trader to get out and fight like a proper Dwarf should. He had also threatened the fat innkeeper and an elf spy to join the fight. That admittedly had been pretty amusing, strangely Sten seemed to agree.

It wouldn't be long now until the sun set, a sight which never failed to fascinate Odin, and the battle would begin. As his companions were preparing the Dwarf stood in front of the Chantry watching the villagers carefully, trying to weigh their chances. He stopped as the Mayor, Murdoch approached him.

"How are the militia?"

"As good as can be expected" The Mayor gruffly responded "but the truth is our weapons and armour are not nearly as good as I'd like and there is still not enough of either."

Odin had noticed. Even with that Blacksmith's help one man could not arm and armour an entire village in a few hours. Too many had old rusty axes and daggers, while the armour was ill fitting and had clearly not been maintained properly.

Odin began "What I wouldn't give for a good…"

"Something is charging up the road!"

The shout came from a lookout awkwardly perched on the Chantry's roof.

"… Master craftsman" Finished Odin while a horrible, suspicious feeling of dread had sprung up about what that something could be. He had _told_ that damn box why it had to stay away from the village.

Sure enough the Luggage raced down the hill to the consternation of everyone that wasn't part of the Grey Warden group.

"Calm down its friendly!" Alistair announced as he rushed on to the scene. This pronouncement was met with incredulous looks and a few mutterings of 'witchcraft' and 'blood magic'. Odin himself was just about to discover some way to throttle /dismember/immolate/ generally cause harm to this piece of glorified wood when it arrived at his feet and reveal a horde of gleaming and razor sharp equipment.

The villagers were goggle eyed. Odin's mind abruptly halted the violent revenge fantasies.

Alistair spluttered "How it did…where did it…how long has it had…"

Leliana had a slightly dreamy smile on her face "the Maker moves in mysterious ways" she piously stated.

"Your Maker has nothing to do with it" snapped Morrigan "Magic is the only _rational _answer."

Leliana, who had had her fair share of philosophical disagreements with the scantily clad witch over the last few days, was about answer back when a villager intervened. The gormless lad, who already had more than enough free ale (to steady his nerves you understand) yelled out 'Catfight!'

Now Odin was not entirely sure what a cat was but judging by the glares the boy was getting from both women it was not a good thing. Still few people had laughed and the tension had eased, well as much as it was going to in the circumstances. Odin used the welcome distraction to get everyone to line up and take what they needed from the Luggage's new found weapon stash. He also had to assure them that the well armed trunk which seemed to have a full set of teeth would not bit down on anyone's arms, probably.

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_The sooner we get to this Circle Tower the better_ Odin grumblingly thought to himself. Yes had saved Redcliff and got a lot heart-felt gratitude, even a rather nice helmet, but it wasn't sorted. He had sneaked into the Castle, re-killed a horde of undead only to find that it had all been caused a naïve kid and an overprotective mother with a voice that could crack granite. _How could anyone listen to her without going deaf? Humans are tougher than I thought, or at least their ear drums are. _For some reason it was up to him to decide how to handle this. Killing the kid was an absolute last resort and that blood ritual, well; given his luck so far Odin didn't trust this Jowan with a pocket knife. That left the Circle Mages, so off he went like a good little errand boy. He had split the group to stop Redcliff being destroyed while he was gone. Morrigan (for magical advice/ protection), Sten (in case the kid went mad and had to be dealt with quickly) and Leliana (who smilingly accepted the thankless task of keeping the peace, poor girl) were left in the Castle. Now the two Wardens, along with the dog (whom Odin had named Poacher after catching a small army of Rabbits for their first meal) and the Luggage travelled along the road. The luggage remained a mystery to Odin that he was determined to crack while he was on this blasted trip.

"So" he said as walked alongside the Chest, trying not to feel too foolish about questioning a piece of furniture "where did you get all those shiny weapons?"

The Luggage carried on walking.

_Yes or no questions Brosca_ Odin reminded himself "Were they loot?"

The walking chest nodded.

"Haven't see designs like that before, was it old gear?"

The chest shook itself, presumably a no.

"So recent stuff then?" another positive nod "In that case you must have come a long way."

Another yes nod came from the Luggage. _Progress _Odin triumphantly thought, he was just about to ask a new question when-

"Oh thank the Maker! We need help! They attacked the wagons please help us! Follow me! I'll take you to them!"

The refugee woman immediately turned round and headed back up the road. Alistair had already drawn his weapon and the group followed the woman round the corner-

Only for a tree to fall on the road and completely cut off their escape.

"The Grey Wardens die here!"

"Oh bugger."

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Bert, Tom and Bill had, until very recently, been petty criminals operating in northern Ferelden. They had mostly been attacking those fleeing the Darkspawn. It had been a steady money maker in the last couple of months. That was until they were captured by Arl Howe's men and given a choice; a slow painful death or a Job.

A fairly easy decision really.

So the three miscreants had been placed in a group led by this sleazy, foreign knife ear, who was some kind of professional assassin oddly enough, to hunt down rouge Grey Wardens. They had been hiding above the road on a small ridge for the last three days waiting for their targets. The rain had soaked them through and all they had to eat was some cold Mutton. Their talk had mostly been private grumbling and plans to run off, when they were told the Grey Wardens were approaching.

About time!

They quickly readied themselves and waited for some clear shots.

" 'ere Tom, Bill looky there."

Both men turned to Bert. The fight had just begun and they had missed their chance. Then they noticed what Bert was pointing at.

A large wooden chest… a large wooden chest absolutely stuffed with _Gold_.

Three men quickly lost all interest in the fight below and each made a mad dash for the treasure.

"It's mine!"

"I saw it first!"

"Piss off!"

Tom was the fastest of the three but unfortunately for him he was rather forgetful. So forgetful in fact that he forgot about the claw trap he had set only yesterday.

AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!

The gold and the chest it was in meanwhile had gone back down towards the road and was heading up to the ridge on the other side.

"Hey come back 'ere!" yelled Bert frantically following. The chest had just got over the pathway when Bert made a leap and grabbed one of the legs of his prize.

"Ha! Got you!"

Bert's success was rather short lived as he failed to notice Poacher the Mabari was racing towards him, teeth first.

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!

The Luggage, now free, made it up the other ridge and stopped. Bill, the largest of the three caught up pretty quickly.

"Not running anymore you slippery little bastard?"

Bill's AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH was noticeably more muffled than either of his two comrades. Being swallowed whole can have that effect.

As the fight ended the Luggage dutifully re-joined the rest of his adopted group. The Luggage was rather pleased; this may be a strange new world but the old tricks still worked.

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	3. New Quests and Questions

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"Are you absolutely sure about him?"

Odin had been waiting for this question all evening. He turned to his fellow Grey Warden who was glancing suspiciously at the newest member of their entourage.

"No, but then I wasn't sure about Sten, Leliana, Morrigan or our wooden menace. They've all worked out well. In any case if he attempts to kill us again I'd rather keep close where I can see him."

"But you don't think he will, otherwise you would've just killed him" replied Alistair.

Odin stroked his beard in thought. _Alistair is not nearly as foolish as he first seems. _

"No I don't. His explanation made sense and I'm good at reading people. So I trust our new Antivan friend enough to give him a chance."

"Even with his shady background?" asked Alistair, looking incredulous.

One of the casteless dwarf's rather bushy eyebrows rose at that.

"_I _have a shady background but that didn't stop Duncan from recruiting me."

Alistair looked suitably reproached and rather mournful at the mention of his deceased mentor. Odin quickly decided to stop Alistair's inevitable misery the best way he knew how; changing the subject.

"Besides" Odin continued his lips quirking upwards "many people might think you have a shady background…your Royal Highness."

Alistair groaned. "You're never going to forget that are you?"

"Nope" replied the smiling Warden. The smile suddenly died when a thought hit him. "I'm sure others have remembered it as well."

Alistair only sighed at that. The thought had crossed his mind before, along with all its' implications.

"My, my, such sober faces my dear Wardens." Said an approaching Zevran, having just finished pitching the tent. "Has someone died?"

"You mean apart from all your assassin friends?" said Alistair, his glare returning.

Zevran scoffed at that. "They were hardly friends and certainly not assassins. Arl…Howe was it? He gave me the pick of the dungeons, which wasn't much, and a few hired thugs. Hardly up to the usual Crow standards. If he had given a few good men well…"

"The fight might have been a bit less one-sided." Replied Odin with a grin "I wonder if this Arl friend of Loghain's is simply a cheapskate or he just keeps underestimating us." The Dwarf paused "If it's the latter I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted."

"From what I've seen I'd say both" responded Zevran, "although I cannot imagine many people expecting a wooden chest luring three people to their… untimely demise."

Odin shrugged. "That's their problem, though from our friend's performance so far most don't get the chance to worry for that long."

"So it seems, still such a rare item would be worth a fortune, a king's ransom perhaps." Zevran speculated.

"Well this trunk has followed us since our journey from Ostagar, I'm not sure it could be sold even if we wanted to" Odin replied.

"The timing was perfect and the chest has been really useful." Alistair said, almost to himself "Maybe Leliana is right, perhaps it was sent by the Maker."

"Your god has a pretty weird sense of humour if he did" Odin stated.

"Life is funny like that" Zevran agreed. "But tell me, who is this Leliana you speak of, another _enchanting_ companion?"

"She's not a mage" Alistair explained innocently. "She and a couple of others are staying at Redcliffe while we go to the Circle Tower."

"And why is that?"

Alistair and Odin exchanged glances.

"It's complicated"

"Ah!"

_Still with the mage's support we should get the help we need _Odin hoped as he stood watch later that evening. Then his eyes turned to currently motionless Luggage. _Perhaps some answers as well._

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_By the Stone this is odd. _Odin was looking out across Lake Calenhad from the deck of a large boat. He had just risen having spent the night on this vessel with Redcliffe slowly coming into view. Both the Templars and Mages had agreed that requisitioning a boat was the best way to get the mages, and their equally important Lyrium, over to the possessed child. It was better than marching through a war torn country with some very old and untrained feet slowing them down.

Odin smiled grimly as he watched the Sunrise. The last few days had been one argument after another. First with that idiot of a Templar refusing to get them to Circle's island, believing them to be imposters while claiming that he was the Queen of Antiva (much to Zevran's amusement). Then the fun task finding out the Circle was in uproar and telling the so-called Knight Commander that locking the doors, assuming that every single mage was dead, and waiting for reinforcements that almost certainly hadn't got the message, was not a sensible plan. So having forced the Grey Wardens into doing his job and saving the mages Knight Commander Greagoir then turned his attention to the chest. _Yes_ it is a magical artefact. _Yes _it is needed by the Grey Wardens for this mission. _No_ it will not be given to the holy Templar's of the Chantry for 'further investigation and safe keeping.' By the time those conversations were done Odin was almost glad to go into the tower proper, even as the Templars locked the doors behind them. By the time he got out again the Dwarf was thoroughly sick of the Circle tower and most of its inhabitants, preachy mages, crazy blood mages, possessed Templars, unhinged Templars and, of course, daemons. Still he got what he needed in the end; help with the Blight and Redcliffe. He had even got some extra help. As much as her insistence on providing 'guidance' and finger waging was frustrating Wynne's healing skills were far too useful to pass up. _Perhaps she might teach Morrigan _Odin had at first thought, but then again from what he knew of both women… _that might be more trouble than its worth._

Odin was joined on the deck by Alistair, who had managed to scrounge up some Breakfast.

"Morning"

"Morning"

"I take you want some food?"

"Defiantly, this Grey Warden appetite is relentless. If I was still in Dust Town I'd have become a cannibal by now."

"That bad hmm?"

"Worse"

The food was handed over. Both wardens ate in silence with very little in the way of table manners.

"Have you got any answers from the Mages about our wooden friend?" asked Alistair, once they had both finished.

"Only a lot of beard stroking and chin scratching so far" replied Odin, deliberately stroking his own rather impressive facial hair. "Followed by a great deal of very technical, completely incomprehensible discussion, is that a mage thing?"

"Oh of course" agreed Alistair. "All mages have to wear robes and talk complete gibberish that sounds incredibly wise, with occasional staff waving for emphasis."

Odin grinned; it was just too easy to pass up. "When you say 'staff waving'…"

Alistair looked confused "what do you…oh Maker! I did not need that image in my head!"

At this point the laughing Odin and the mortified Alistair were joined by First Enchanter Irving. In robes and with his long, flowing beard. Fortunately for the two wardens the Enchanter's staff was firmly strapped to his back and not waving in the slightest.

"Ah First Enchanter, good morning, according to the captain we should be docked in Redcliffe within the next couple of hours." Odin said, just managing to pull himself together. "Are your people prepared to perform this ritual?"

"We are" replied the elderly mage "after all the services you have done for us this is the least we can do. I must also admit that it is a pleasant change to be out of the tower and allowed to use our gifts to assist in these dark times."

Odin thought he saw a glint in the eyes of Irving at that point. _That is true but the cunning old man must know the value of having a powerful nobleman in his debt, and perhaps his only child as a ward in the near future. Home or surface world, politics doesn't change._

"That is a relief" Alistair said fervently "but still" he continued "have you found out anything the chest?"

"It is a most intriguing creation to be sure. I can certainly see why Greagoir was so determined to see it handed over to the Templars."

"I almost wish I'd agreed to it" Odin grimaced "judging by the way it was growling at him the illustrious Knight Commander wouldn't have lasted a day."

Irving smiled "It has a definitely has a… unique personality. I and three my fellows engaged it in a rather hard fought tug of war over one of our more ancient books, and poor Keili nearly lost a hand."

"Was she alright?" asked Alistair, sounding rather concerned.

"Oh yes" Irving replied, waving hand dismissively. "She seemed to think it was 'a just punishment from the Maker for my accursed magic', A sweet girl but too devout for her own good."

"So" asked Odin, eager to get the conversation back to its' original point "what have you found out?"

"Very little" sighed Irving "The magic around the chest is powerful, no question. Whether the wood, which incidentally appears to be unrecognisable, was always magical or it was enchanted none of us can say. It is a complete mystery; I have never seen, heard or even read of anything like it."

Odin was disappointed but not completely surprised by this answer. No one on seemed to know anything about their walking luggage. But it followed them around, ate bandits, Darkspawn and other enemies as well as providing weapons and, most importantly, laundry. It would stay with them for now but his frustration at his lack of answer was summed up by his mind in two words.

_Bloody Typical_

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"It is so good to be on the road again and all together." Leliana said happily.

Remarkably everyone seemed to agree on this.

From what Odin had heard so far from his reunited companions Redcliffe may have been safer but their situation was no less awkward or frustrating. Bann Teagan had been a polite host but was completely occupied with re-organising Redcliffe. As for the Arlessa she had spent her time shrieking at everyone within earshot or frantically praying for deliverance in the castle's chapel. The rest of Castle Redcliffe was still on edge with the possessed child locked, but certainly not powerless, in his room. As well as dealing with their unusual new guests.

Sten had been his normal stoic self, which had left most of the servants terrified, though perhaps regularly sharpening his great sword in anticipation of (possibly) executing a child-abomination may have helped. The fact that he was a member of the Qun had also gotten out, managing to scandalise the surviving priests, almost as much as Morrigan's presence as an obvious apostate had. Morrigan herself was seemly torn between amusement and irritation by the stay. Aside from the priestly disapproval most of the male half of the castle had been thoroughly distracted by her presence while female half had either whispered behind her back or asked if she would like something _warmer _to wear. Leliana had managed to 'keep the peace' as Odin asked, even calming Arlessa Isolde a little, but she looked exhausted by the time Odin and the mages had arrived. _Poor girl, _decided Odin afterwards _she earned that gold Chantry amulet I gave her. _Still it was done; mother, child and Redcliffe were safe and the daemon was dead.

_But now we're being sent on a mad quest for a scholar and the ashes of a dead prophet. _That galling thought had been running through Odin's head seen their departure from the castle. He had the Darkspawn to deal with but now he had to save Arl Eamon as well. _Bloody politics can wait_ he decided, _we've got other things to do on the way._

Odin suppressed his planning for the moment and looked at the group behind him. Zevran and Wynne had been introduced to the rest of the group and were appearing to blend in well. Leliana and Wynne seemed to be in a deep discussion about the damn Sacred Ashes, Sten was being stoic and menacing at the back and Zevran was flirting with Morrigan, while avoiding being hit by her staff at the same time of course.

As for the Luggage and Poacher the Mabari they appeared to be taking turns chasing one another through the nearby trees.

Alistair approached Odin.

"So how are going to contact our Scholarly friend if he's in the middle of the Loghain controlled Capital?"

"I was thinking cloaks and fake beards" Odin flippantly responded. "But before that we should go…" he paused, to look at his weather stained map "to the Brecilian forest and see if we can find these Dalish Elves, since we're going right past it anyway. I'm sure it won't take too…" Odin stopped and remembered Morrigan's gloating about Redcliffe being a nice rest. "Well that's the plan."

Alistair looked around "but this road is going the wrong way."

"A completely intended and minor detour" assured Odin "you remember that merchant we met on the road? Felix de… whatever his name was."

"The one who gave you an all powerful stick?"

"It's not a stick! It's a control rod for a Golem, I used to hear stories about them as far back as I can remember. If there is a working Golem in this village we must get it! They crush Darkspawn by the dozen and they are worth their weight in gold, literally."

"Alright" conceded Alistair "That does sound useful".

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	4. Hunting and Waiting

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"It said we would be fighting the Darkspawn yes?"

This question was asked by a towering stone Golem called Shale. Said Golem had apparently been standing paralysed in a village square for the last thirty years until the Grey Wardens and company had arrived. Presumably the nicknaming and incredible sarcasm had been building up for decades.

"Yes that is what _I_ said" replied 'It', more commonly known as Odin Brosca.

"I am somewhat surprised. With all the other flesh creatures it has gathered I assumed it was planning to start a travelling circus."

Odin chose to play along. "Certainly, you are to be our star attraction, the amazing, talking, skull crushing Golem! Roll up! Roll up!"

"Very amusing" rumbled Shale "My skull crushing however, is for my amusement only. I am pleased that at least that I am not the only non flesh-creature in this circus, even if it made from wood. A flimsy material if you ask me, stone is far superior."

"Ah yes our mysterious chest, where it comes from nobody knows." Odin was clearly enjoying his ringmaster role.

"Yes" the Golem deadpanned "Perhaps some humans, mages probably, tried to make their own Golems?"

"I thought that" Odin said seriously. "But all the mages I've spoken claim to never have heard of any such creations."

"Mages, in my experience, are a secretive and untrustworthy bunch. It should be careful."

"Thanks for the concern but when are going to stop calling me 'It'?"

"Never"

"Would some gold change your mind?"

"Gold?" scoffed the Golem "If it thinks I can be bribed with such soft and useless metal It should check if its' puny skull is cracked."

"You're right of course" replied Odin looking apologetic, briefly.

"Would these ever so shiny crystals help?"

"…Perhaps"

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After a day of fruitlessly wondering the forest for the Dalish Elves the tired group were relaxing round the campfire. A hearty venison stew had been cooked by Leliana to everyone's delight and relief. The relief came from the fact that it was technically Alistair's turn to make supper but previous attempts had led to a permanent ban. Odin privately wondered if that was deliberate, no one could have possible failed that badly by accident…

Along with providing weapons and laundry services the Luggage had also produced cooking equipment and crockery for the entire group. All of these abilities were a common source of conversation for the entire company.

"I wonder how much storage space your wooden friend has?" asked Zevran, thinking aloud as he deposited the plates back into the gaping maw of the Luggage.

"Damned if I know" replied Odin "and I'm not curious enough to go poking around, people disappear in there and never come out. All the same he's the best accomplice ever."

Zevran raised his eyebrows at that "I am hurt Warden."

Poacher also heard that comment and a set of very sad puppy eyes were directed at Odin.

"One of the best" amended Odin, carefully avoiding a mutiny. Poacher promptly sat down next to the warden, deciding that a great deal of ear scratching and treat giving would be needed before he forgot this slight.

"Well let's just say he's my favourite chest." Odin continued, hoping he was in the clear.

His hound let out a relatively satisfied bark at this, although he still expected to get some extra snacks and petting out of this, maybe even a few games of fetch.

Zevran still looked upset, or at least he tried to. He couldn't quite keep the grin off his face however. "I am still deeply insulted warden, is my own well toned and bronzed chest not good enough for you?"

"You're not my type." Odin decisively pronounced. "Besides if I'm going to be looking at anyone's chest it's Morrigan's. Now that is a truly magnificent chest, and so easy to appreciate."

Zevran nodded in agreement "Ah fair enough then, the fair skinned mage is a beautiful creature but she is certainly not the only one."

"Anyone in particular on your mind?" asked Odin "Apart from me." he added noticing the sly glance Zevran sent in his direction.

"Well now, what about out other mage? Madam Wynne has a most magical bosom, truly remarkable for a woman of her years."

"I hadn't really noticed" Odin answered, truthfully. "I'm usually too busy being lectured on my duty to notice such things whenever I talk to her."

"That is a pity my dear warden, you should not allow yourself to be distracted from beauty" advised Zevran.

"But being distracted by beauty can be far more dangerous." Said an Orleasian accented voice emerging from the shadows.

"Alas that is true" lamented Zevran as he turned to address Leliana. "But surely even being trapped in a Closter for two years cannot have blinded you to beauty my charming minstrel?"

"Such thoughts would be inappropriate in a Chantry!" exclaimed Leliana, looking slightly guilty.

"Such repression my dear woman" laughed Zevran "the offer for my…assistance still stands, I am at your service."

"How noble of you Zevran" Odin deadpanned.

"Yes, very kind but I'm afraid the rest of Thedas is still very much alive so your offer is unnecessary" answered Leliana, with a small completely innocent smile painted on her face.

"How cruel it is to deny yourself such delectable enjoyment, but it is your choice, even if it breaks my heart." Zevran looked plausibly broken hearted before immediately perking up. "But my original point is that beauty, chest-related or otherwise is everywhere in our group."

"A good point well made" agreed Odin "They are lots of fine chests out there wooden or otherwise."

"What are you all talking about?" asked Alistair, joining the others around the fireside.

"What perfect timing" exclaimed Leliana "We were just discussing fine chests and from I saw while you were bathing in the river earlier yours defiantly merits attention, such exquisite muscles!"

How Leliana managed to sound as innocent as she did while saying that Odin would never know but he was too busy laughing to care. Zevran meanwhile was nodding in agreement, giving the former Templar a very through once over.

As for Alistair himself his cheeks had turned a magnificent shade of red.

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Far away from the campsite others were watching the party's progress with great interest. They were sat round a gigantic map of Thedas with an almost countless number of moving pieces all going to and fro in their own little ways. But two beings in particular were eyeing the small marked campsite on the edges of the Brecilian Forest as though trying to work out what would happen next.

The first looked like a middle aged man with greying black hair. The other was a pleasant looking young woman. But the most noticeable, and telling, feature of both individuals were their eyes. The man's eyes were entirely black with a few tiny bright dots in them. The women's were a brilliant shade of green from lid to lid. Both sets of eyes were narrowed in concentration.

There were a great many spectators gathered around the table. Some were familiar with two beings and let them focus. Others were unfamiliar and still somewhat confused about the new and strange situation they were now in. As a result there were numerous discussions happening around the map.

"It's bad enough that this lot come in and start interfering in our world and with one of our own people but why do they have to take so damn long about it?" demanded an elderly dwarf warrior with a melancholic look on his face.

The female dwarf next to him nodded in agreement. She would have added her own strongly worded opinion but she had cut out her own tongue a few centuries back. It was a fine gesture of defiance at the time but it had its downsides.

"At least there's free ale." Said a third dwarf, passing a pair of overflowing tankards to his fellows, having thoroughly tested the beverage on offer and decided that it matched his high standards. At this the duo nodded and both decided that was a positive. They clacked their tankards together and drank deeply.

Further on a smaller group of rather fey looking elves looked on; they seemed rather insignificant next to the other beings, all except a rather smug looking wolf that appeared to have found a bloody chuck of flesh to eat.

"As strange as the game is it could lead to great changes for our people." Said one of the male elves shrewdly, playing with a small bear talisman that hung around his neck as he did so.

"Good changes or bad changes?" asked the kind looking matron to his left.

"That will depend on fate and luck." He answered, once again looking at the map.

Not all the discussions from the newcomers were focused on the map. In a previously quiet corner a women was having a rather loud argument with a dragon.

"I am the true prophet! How dare you take my identity and turn my loyal followers into crazed fanatics!" Despite the volume and anger of this statement the woman's voice remained remarkably melodious.

The Dragon snorted in response, a small amount of smoke emerging from its' nostrils.

"They are not!" retorted the woman, apparently able to interpret the Dragon.

The Dragon stared at her

She let out a frustrated sigh "Alright some have lost their way; I didn't tell them to start locking up mages or create a massive corrupt hierarchy of priests with far too much power but that's no excuse!"

"This could carry on for some time." Thundered a powerfully built older man wearing a blindfold, who been listening in on the noisy theological debate.

"Religious schisms always cause the nastiest arguments." Said Om, noticing this development with some discomfort, it was giving him some unpleasant flashbacks.

Back at the map a pair of black eyes looked across to the lady sitting opposite. He was rather enjoying himself; it was nice to have a change of scenery and a new game board to play on, even if it was by chance.

"It is your move my dear."

The lady smiled. She was also enjoying this new challenge, but she had absolutely no intention of losing to her long time rival. Still she had plenty of options, and a few familiar pieces to use should they be required.

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	5. Lost and not Found

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_First off thanks to _inkykenrd _for my first ever (and very nice) review, that made my day. Also belated thanks to those who have favoured or followed this story. Anyhow on with the story, enjoy._

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It had been a very interesting day.

Lanaya, the First (which is to say second after Keeper Zathrian) of the Dalish had been expecting another day of caring for the injured and infected members of her people. Privately she knew many of them were cursed to become werewolves. That had been obvious after the first attack, many proud Dalish elves had died or been transformed into monsters. These beasts had taken people she had known since childhood and more would follow. The best she could do was comfort them and try to delay the inevitable. With the werewolf threat and the Darkspawn in the south the clan was in a desperate situation. Normally they would have moved on but with so many wounded that was impossible. Then mid way through the morning visitors arrived.

They were not Dalish; most of them weren't even Elves.

The dwarven Grey Warden and his strange group had come seeking their aid against the Blight and had agreed to help them end werewolf curse in exchange. There was confusion and some veiled hostility from the clan. They had no quarrel with a Child of the Stone but most of the Grey Warden's entourage were human, the long lists of historical grievances were kept fresh in the minds of every generation of the Dalish. Still the Keeper had made a deal to help the clan and no one would openly question it. It helped that the strangers had been unfailingly polite and respectful, if relentlessly inquisitive.

For Lanaya personally these new arrivals had allowed her to indulge her curiosity about the outside world. A world she had left behind as a very young girl. The Dwarf had answered her questions and asked plenty in return. In all she glad she was Dalish; the idea of living in a human settlement like her oppressed city elf cousins sounded grim and noisy, as for living _underground_…

The Warden had asked a few questions about the Dalish. From what she could tell he seemed just as baffled by the appeal of permanently living in the wilderness and she was by urban life. His questions about the Keeper however were rather uncomfortable; when she revealed that Keeper Zathrian had lost his family there was a momentary gleam in the Dwarf's eye that looked like he was…suspicious.

Lanaya was so caught up in her recollections that failed to notice Mithra, the most senior surviving hunter, appear at her side.

Dalish grace went out the proverbial window once Mithra politely coughed. Lanaya jumped nearly a foot off the ground with a high pitched yelp.

"I hope I did not disturb you too much" said Mithra an amused smirk on her face while Lanaya clutched her chest, trying to steady her breathing.

"It has been a tiring few days" responded Lanaya primly. "I have of course been assisting the Keeper with our injured constantly."

"What are their chances?" Mithra's face had turned grim.

"As strange as it sounds I think their last hope lays with these outsiders." Both Dalish women turned to the corner of the camp that the Warden and his allies had been given. They had assured the clan that they would head into the forest at first light and most were now asleep.

Mithra looked even grimmer at that. "Can they be trusted with such an important task, especially when our own hunters failed?"

"They need our help with the Darkspawn" replied Lanaya "their reasons for helping us are clear. As for their capability such an… odd group has must be able to work together or else it would've fallen already. They are not too dissimilar to our clan when you think about it."

"I suppose" said a sullen Mithra "but I'm not used to relying on such people, none of the clan is." She paused "and some of the beings of this Warden's group are completely unknown to me. What do you make of the statue and their walking chest?"

"The stone creature is called a Golem; they are dwarven creations according to the Keeper." Explained the First "As for the chest I do not know, it is magical but like nothing I've heard of. It certainly gave poor Cammen a fright."

"It did" Mithra laughed "perhaps the Warden spoke to Gheyna for him as a way of apologising. They make a sweet couple."

"They do, it's nice to see, especially in these troubled times. As for the chest I wondered if it was an ancient relic of our people but there are no references to such inventions. Perhaps our ancestors created it, perhaps not." Lanaya looked up at the stars. "It is a mystery, so much is lost."

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"We're completely lost aren't we?"

"Yep"

"Stupid surface forest, give me a nice underground tunnel any time."

"Well at least we've got lots of fresh wolf pelts."

Everyone stared at Leliana.

"They're warm and good to sleep on!"

"Well that's a relief since it looks like we'll spending the rest of the year in this wood." Snapped Odin "Stuck all this greenery at the behest of a shifty elf mage, why does this keep happening? Does some evil force enjoy sending us all over the country solving everyone else's problems?"

"Probably" responded Zevran "Though I am pleased that I am not the only one that doesn't trust our esteemed Dalish keeper."

"He knows something about this. I don't know what but we'll get some answers one way or another." Odin looked around. "Assuming we get out of here first."

"I once read a book on woodcraft many years ago. I'm sure there was something about checking your direction with moss growth. Let me see if can remember…" Wynne set about pacing and muttering to herself.

Odin looked round to see if anyone else had any bright ideas, then noticed the group was one short.

"Where is the chest?"

At that point a strange rumbling sound came from within the forest. They all recognised the noise and drew their weapons. An unspoken decision was reached to find the source of this disturbance. Eyes widened when they found it.

"What manner of beast be thee?

That stands before this elder tree."

The luggage was there, standing in front of a gnarled oak tree. An oak tree which was moving of its own violation and speaking in rhyme, it had apparently just woken up. It was also looking down at the Luggage.

"What is this, a new wooden friend?

Is my loneliness at an end?"

The tree promptly bent down and swept up the Luggage, hugging the chest close to its' own chest. The Luggage's legs seemed to be frantically scrambling in an attempt to escape but were having absolutely no luck.

The rest of the group just stared at the bizarre sight.

Eventually Alistair spoke. "Well at least he is friendlier than the other walking trees we've met."

"I don't know about you but I have no wish to be hugged to death by a rhyming tree." Replied Odin grimly. "Still we might be able to negotiate, as long as we don't have to rhyme ourselves."

The group slowly approached the Oak which still had the Luggage firmly held to its' torso. The Luggage itself appeared to have reluctantly given up struggling; it clearly wasn't getting anywhere.

As Odin decided how best to approach this delicate situation without getting stomped on a single thought crossed his mind.

_I better find some damn good loot in this forest._

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"So you've lost my luggage?"

"Lost is such a… pessimistic way to think about it my dear fellow. I'd prefer to say temporarily misplaced."

"I bet you bloody do!"

Rincewind angrily paced the floor of the Archchancellor's Office. After dealing with his latest adventure in distant lands, that is to say running as far away from it as possible, things had been quiet for the last few week.

Suspiciously quiet.

Rincewind understood his life well enough that this couldn't last. Something was bound to happen, dragon attack, shipwreck, war, plague, famine; it was a long and rather depressing list. Magical cock-up was of course on this list but it was meant to happen to _him_ not his luggage. That terrifying but useful menace was (supposed) to help get him out of sticky situations not drag him into one. His life always had a way of keeping him on his feet however.

What was considerably less surprising to the wizard was that the cause of this latest crisis came from his 'esteemed' colleagues in the Unseen University. Those very people were standing around the Archchancellor's desk, stroking their beards and looking credibly apologetic.

Bastards

"Well you see it was a simple enough experiment," explained Ponder Stibbons in his usual, terribly earnest, fashion. The youngest member of the group by several decades and Head of the Inadvisably Applied Magic department continued; "Hex had done all the calculations, it should have created a portal between my department and the kitchen, the plan was to create to create these portals all over the facility."

"Imagine the advantages!" said the Dean "We could have meals and booze delivered instantly! Surely you can see that such possibilities needed to be investigated."

"Well quite," agreed Ponder "but it would appear that it hasn't quite worked out as expected." He finished, looking rather sheepish.

"And the reason you decided to use my luggage as the first test subject was?" prompted Rincewind, his eyes firmly fixed on Ponder.

What followed was an incredibly lengthy and detailed explanation that absolutely no one understood.

Not that any of them would ever admit that of course.

"Be that as it may, where did my luggage go?" asked Rincewind, choosing to believe that the previously inexplicable explanation was a perfectly reasonable one and moved on.

"Well we don't know exactly where but I'm certain that the Luggage is completely safe." Assured Ponder.

An awkward silence followed; no one doubted the Luggage was safe but as for those around it….

"Someone will need to find the Luggage before we can close the portal." Ponder eventually said.

All eyes turned to Rincewind.

_I knew it! I bloody well knew it! Once again I'm sent off on some ridiculous adventure that will probably get me attacked, captured, tortured, killed and then violently dismembered for good measure! While my damned colleagues stay warm, comfy and well feed! _

Rincewind kept these accurate but tactless thoughts to himself and instead stated as many reasons/excuses as he could think of for not going.

Unfortunately they didn't work; his fellow wizards pointed out that as the owner, well, keeper, of the Luggage he was most likely to find it. Just as importantly he could bring it back without losing as many limbs.

Rincewind bowed to the inevitable, he was going whether he liked it or not. But he wasn't done yet. He then asked that, given the danger of the unknown, perhaps they should all go.

To Rincewind's utter, but predictable, disgust this idea was met with averted eye contact and thumb twiddling. The list of excuses that followed involved an astoundingly diverse selection of health problems afflicting the staff. As well as their relatives, friends, friends of friends, pets of said friends and casual acquaintances.

One staff member even claimed he had a class to teach.

After hearing all this Rincewind, with remarkable restraint, held back the torrent of abuse in his mind and instead simply asked (reluctantly and with rather slumped shoulders) "What do I have to do?"

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	6. Forest Wanderings

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Just outside the village of Lothering, along the southern road a portal appeared ten feet off the ground. The silence of the cold and misty morning was broken by a screaming man falling through said portal and landing in a leafless hedge. Had the few birds in the area understood human they would have scandalised by the lengthy and incredibly colourful swearing that immediately followed this unorthodox landing. As it was they just decided to fly away. The rather ruffled looking man eventually exhausted his vocabulary and picked his hat up, briefly polishing the sequins that spelt out WIZZARD before placing it on his head. He also picked up a new acquisition; a backpack.

His accursed colleagues of the Unseen University had all but thrown him through the portal with promises that they would keep it open for as long as possible, and yes he would be able to get back through, and no there wasn't time for one last cup of tea or an alteration of his will. Utter bastards though they were they had surprised him with their common sense at providing him with some supplies. This surprise faded when he opened the backpack and only found 19 pairs of mismatched woollen socks, a small stack of cheese sandwiches wrapped in old newspaper and a pouch of spare sequins for his hat.

Search of inventory completed Rincewind looked round. "So in review" he said to himself "I'm alone and stuck in a strange new world. I've no idea whether it's inhabited, or if these hypothetical locals are friendly or even if I can understand them. No map, no compass and no way to track the Luggage other than 'follow the mayhem'." He sighed, "In conclusion; bloody typical."

At this point a human shaped shadow loomed out of the mist, followed by several more. Rincewind spotted them and, in a bout of ludicrous optimism, tried the diplomatic approach.

"Hello there! I don't suppose you've seen a walking, wooden chest around here? Or if you could tell where I am that would also be pretty useful. Hopefully we can understand each other without having to resort to mime."

The lead Darkspawn snarled and drew his sword, emerging from the fog. Many adventurers would react to by preparing to fight and provide some suitably witty one-liners on the side. Rincewind was not one of those adventurers; instead he turned around, hitched up his robes and ran like hell.

Honestly after appearing in a new world and meeting completely unfamiliar monsters the running was almost reassuring.

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Over a giant map of Thedas a woman looked on as her favourite mortal began to explore this new land at his usual brisk pace. She smiled affectionately. The man opposite pursed his lips as though he had just swallowed something extremely bitter.

"That is the oddest looking Mage I've ever seen and I've been to Tevinter." said Andraste.

Her Lizard counterpart could only nod.

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"So, just to clarify you want me to track down a mad hermit through the forest to retrieve your stolen acorn and in return you will realise the chest and provide us with some of your skin that will get us to the Werewolf lair."

"Indeed, perform this simple quest,

Then I will return your walking chest."

"I say we burn the tree" grumbled Sten.

"But then the flesh creatures would have to carry their own goods, which would naturally break your feeble spines." Shale paused, "except the Qunari's."

_Those two get on rather well _Odin thought absentmindedly before returning to the task at hand.

"All right we'll find your acorn, just please look after our chest, don't crush it or get even more emotionally attached."

"I look forward to your return my mortal friends

Perhaps then my solitude will come to a permanent end.

Until then I shall hold your chest

It shall be retrieved by completing this quest."

The group headed back up the path, Odin grimaced.

"Sten, your burning plan is our back up," the stoic warrior nodded, "For now however. Poacher! Can you smell out this hermit?

The dog wagged its' tail. He always enjoyed a good hunt.

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"Ask a question and you'll get a question, but give an answer and receive the same! Oh! I do so love to trade!"

They had found the hermit.

"Would you like to ask a question?"

Unfortunately he was completely insane.

"May I? Oh yes I think I might!"

Even more unfortunately, Morrigan and Wynne had sensed that he was also a powerful mage.

"What is your name?"

"Odin Brosca"

"What is your quest?"

"Here's the list, there're all marked down."

"What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

"Hang on! First how in the name of the ancestors am supposed to know that? Secondly why do you need to know that? In any case by your own rules I now have two questions to ask."

"But you just asked two questions yourself!" protested the madman.

"They were…what do call it… rhetorical." Odin cunningly replied "They don't count since I wasn't asking you. Now about my actual two questions…"

"Fine, fine ask your questions!" ranted the deranged mage.

"Do you have the Grand Oak's acorn?"

"Yes"

"Can I have it?"

"Yes"

"Well that was easy" said a complacent Alistair.

"As soon as you tell me what the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow is!" finished the hermit now laughing manically.

"What do you mean?" asked Morrigan, sounding rather smug, "Is it a Ferelden or a Free March Swallow?"

The hermit looked like he was about answer, then he stopped and his eyes narrowed at the witch.

"Oh no, that's how they got me before! Just take the blasted acorn and go!"

He promptly disappeared, leaving a large acorn on the ground.

"How does the Swamp Witch know so much about Swallows?" asked Shale, disturbed by all things Ornithological.

She smiled slyly "You have to know these things when you're a shape shifter."

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	7. The Fine Art of Diplomacy

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Rincewind was well and truly fed up.

For the last three days he had been running. According to his impeccable sense of direction, built up through years of exploring and escaping, he was heading eastwards. Bands of these monstrous creatures were all over the countryside. Every time he thought he had found somewhere to rest more of these things appeared and he would start running once more. Whatever they were their very presence seemed to be poisoning every living thing they came across. The Wizard was exhausted, soaked through thanks to persistent rain and his sustenance came from streams and the diminishing stack of increasingly soggy cheese sandwiches (his backpack wasn't waterproofed). The only signs of civilisation he had seen so far were burnt out farmsteads. He had carefully approached one to find anything of use only to discover ruins and the remains of the owners. They were human, which in all honesty was a slight relief to Rincewind. It meant there was intelligent, recognisable life in this world.

Well, recognisable anyway.

Night was now falling and Rincewind was looking for shelter, preferably of the warm variety but the forest he was currently in was looking rather sparse in terms of comfort.

A whooshing sound above him suddenly broke his concentration, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His state of nerves did not improve when he looked up. The Moon was bright enough for him to see a silhouette, a very large, menacing one. Rincewind knew exactly what it looked like but decided it was best not to dwell on the name of the reptilian, fire breathing creature it resembled in the vague hope that was just a hunger related hallucination.

Five minutes of aimlessly wandering later another new sight greeted him, a campfire. This could, of course, be good or bad depending on the company. Rincewind's hunger and tiredness outweighed his caution and (justified) paranoia and he approached the clearing. There were four people; three women (the oldest of whom was fast asleep) and a man, all were dressed in simple, slightly ragged clothing. The man and one of the women were armed. _Good enough _he thought and stepped forward.

"Hello there, could I possibly join your camp for the night?" announced Rincewind, still not sure whether they shared a common language or not.

The people starred at him. They exchanged glances with each as though not quite sure what to make of him.

_It can't be that strange a request _The Wizard thought as the awkward silence continued. _Perhaps they just don't understand me._

Eventually however the man's face split into a cocky looking grin. He was young, dark haired and bearded with twin daggers strapped to his back. _A Rogue in every sense of the word _was Rincewind's private assessment.

The fellow turned to the pretty dark haired girl next to him and quipped "Here I thought we'd run out of crazy mages this side of the sea. I think it must be something to do with wearing brightly coloured robes and hats."

_Oh great_ thought Rincewind _A rogue who has delusions of being witty_.

The dark haired girl ignored the rogue and said a quiet and polite manner "You are welcome to join us sir, though I fear we have little to offer apart from the fire."

"That will still be an improvement, thank you. I'm Rincewind by the way." In the back of his mind Rincewind was wondering what the chances were that two completely separate worlds had identical native tongues. In the end he decided just to assume it was magic and leave it at that.

The Girl smiled and said "I'm Bethany, this is my brother Robert, my mother Leandra and this is our friend Aveline."

"A pleasure and a welcome change from those monsters that rampaging everywhere else." Replied the wizard as he sat down. The girl was very pretty he decided but given the proximity of the rest of her family and his dependence on their goodwill he kept the ogling to an appropriate minimum.

"The Darkspawn" stated Aveline, a tall, redheaded, muscular woman with a sword and shield next to her. "We have a full scale Blight on our hands hence why we're on the road." She sounded sad and bitter about it.

"A sensible decision" Agreed Rincewind "However I really don't know much about these Darkspawn or the Blight."

"Quite simple really" replied Robert in his flippant tone "the Darkspawn are ugly bastards who live underground and a Blight is when they come up for a good old fashioned rampage."

"Very helpful" Rincewind said, privately fantasying about smashing his face in with a book of after dinner speeches.

"The truth is we don't much about them" said Bethany in a far more helpful tone "From what I remember it's been centuries since the Darkspawn last came to the surface. With the king dead and half the army destroyed at Ostagar the nation is falling apart. The Grey Wardens were supposed to stop them with King but they all died as well."

"And the Grey Wardens are…"

"You really haven't heard of the Grey Wardens? Warriors of legend? Rode on mighty Griffins to stem the tide of evil?" asked Robert.

"I live…far away"

"Well you've picked a bad time for a visit" said Robert, stating the obvious.

Rincewind had a resigned look on his face. "I always do."

"Anyway the Grey Wardens are military order dedicated to defeating the Darkspawn but they are gone now" explained Bethany.

"Not all of them."

"Oh Robert! You haven't been listening to tavern gossip again! Remember what happened last time?" Scolded Bethany.

"Your impression of mother really has improved in the last couple of years."

"I heard the same thing" said Aveline, swiftly cutting into the sibling bickering "Two of the Wardens escaped and are gathering allies; apparently they helped save Redcliffe from a horde of walking dead."

Rincewind listened in silence, thinking hard. _Two survivors, the last of their order wondering on a quest to save a kingdom… come on Rincewind where else would the chest be? _

"In that case I need to find these Wardens" Rincewind concluded, thinking aloud.

The others stared at him eventually it was Bethany who asked what everyone else was thinking (apart from questioning his sanity) why?

"Because I willing to bet everything I have that these Wardens have what I'm looking for and I must get it back before I can go home."

"What is it you are looking for? And why are you so certain that it we'll be with the Grey Wardens?" asked Bethany, looking increasing concerned.

"It's my walking luggage and it's constantly ending up in dangerous adventures. Call it narrative convention" explained Rincewind in a completely nonchalant manner.

The two women kept staring, Robert burst out laughing.

"That's brilliant, really it is, you should try becoming a bard. You've got the imagination for it."

Rincewind looked rather annoyed Robert's laughter and said "I take it wooden luggage trunks that can walk are rather rare here."

"You…you could say that yes" stammered Bethany.

"Well at least that there'll be no chance of getting the wrong chest." Rincewind was desperately trying to find a positive in what was looking to be a yet another longwinded and dangerous task.

"That's true, do all the mages in your homeland have such…creations and are you allowed to travel freely?" asked Bethany looking slightly wistful.

"In my city I'm the only one, I acquired from…well its' a long story, probably make a couple of books if I wrote it down." Rincewind felt almost nostalgic for that particular set of death defying events, before the second part of Bethany's question hit him.

"What do you mean am I allowed to travel freely?"

Bethany and Robert exchanged glances, for the first time that evening the damnable rogue looked serious.

"Well there are probably a few other things you should be aware of…"

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The Lady of the Forest could still be surprised, even after all these centuries. When the Werewolves first reported that Zathrian had sent another group into the forest she expected more Dalish. The first attempt had been by Dalish hunters, most of who ended in becoming Werewolves themselves. The only surprise about a second group approaching was that the Dalish had enough Hunters left to do so. Instead however the Keeper had got outside help. At first those victims she had helped were angry. Another sign that Zathrian would not give back lives he had so blindly and callously destroyed. Even worse this new group was strong. Strong enough to carve a bloody path through everything the forest had thrown at them. That anger only got worse, and was now mixed with some fear, when their forest barrier was passed through, seemingly with the help of the Grand Oak. For the Lady (who was familiar the Oak and had had many interesting conversations and poetry contests with him in her much younger days) however this was a hopeful sign, these strangers could negotiate as well as fight. The great wolf Witherfang had seen this party with his own eyes. It was led by a Dwarf. The Lady hadn't really had any dealings with the Children of the Stone, not many came through the forest and none stayed for any length of time. She would just have to do her best, for the sake of all those she was trying to save, and hope that this leader had wisdom and compassion.

But there was something else. The wooden creature that came with these outsiders; was it a spirit like her, stuck in the material world? Her duty came first however; when the strangers arrived she told them everything. How Zathrian, grief stricken at the loss of his son and daughter unleashed the Werewolf curse on innocent and guilty alike. How herself and Witherfang were created to spread the curse and how she had tried to aid those who fallen regain their minds. The dwarf was diplomatic and asked questions but remained unreadable; his allies were far less guarded. Some were angry at being used by Zathrian, others saddened by the tale of loss that caused this curse. The dwarf however had final say and agreed the bring Zathrian to them and end this, one way or another.

When they returned the ancient keeper had joined them. The Dwarf had managed to convince Zathrian to talk but it was clear that his vengeance was still all consuming. When she revealed he used blood magic to create the curse and simultaneously preserve his own life the Warden's group was again a myriad of different expressions. The blonde human Warden looked ready to draw his sword and slay Zathrian as soon as the words 'blood mage' were mentioned. The dark haired witch looked contemptuously at the Keeper; the foreign elf seemed to be emptying a small vial onto both his weapons. The dwarf kept calm but his eyes narrowed and asked Zathrian just how far he was willing to go for revenge. But it didn't change anything. The lady felt Witherfang stir as fight seemed inevitable, the Dalish Keeper strode towards the doorway drawing his staff…and was then swallowed whole.

The luggage let out a thunderous belch before trotting back the Dwarf's side. There was uproar.

"You fools!" Howled the largest werewolf, "he did not break the curse! We will remain like this forever! Tear these creatures apart!"

"Oh sod" muttered the dwarf.

"Wait!" said the human Warden "He might still be alive, it does return things sometimes!"

"Clean socks and cooking equipment are hardly the same as an ancient Dalish blood mage" hissed the Witch in an undertone the human warden.

The Lady's despair was almost total. She had failed, but, if Zathrian could be…returned.

She walked forward and knelt down on one knee level with the wooden chest, who had been growling the Werewolves as the yelling continued around them.

"Please creature, return Zathrian to us we need him alive." The wooden chest had stopped growling but its' body language seemed sulky. "Please" implored the Lady patting the Luggage gently on the lid.

It may have been a trick of the light but Luggage seemed to have developed a red tinge. Nevertheless the Chest opened and Zathrian fell onto the floor in a crumpled heap. He was in tattered robes, covered in saliva and his staff was missing but he was alive.

"Thank you my friend" said the Lady of the Forest and kissed the Luggage softly on the lid.

The Luggage's apparent red colour had got noticeably brighter.

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It was done. Zathrian and the Lady of the Forest had sacrificed themselves to break the curse. The magic was broken and the werewolves had become people once more. At Alistair's suggestion most of the humans headed towards Redcliffe, after they found some clothes and weapons. A few of the wolves had been part of Zathrian's clan and agreed to travel back to their people, with the Keeper's body in tow.

"Whatever his mistakes he must be returned to the clan for his funeral" Said one of the Dalish, "though we will have to clean the drool off him first."

The Luggage was still a bit annoyed about losing a perfectly good meal, but it was also sad. As the group left the overgrown chamber the Luggage briefly turned to where the Lady last stood, before slowly walking away.

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	8. Deals and Gates

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It was mid morning and Rincewind had found the road again. He now had a crude map of the country, _Ferelden it's called Ferelden_ he reminded himself _it just might look a bit suspicious if I don't know the name of the land I'm currently travelling in, and that's the last thing I need apparently._ The best thing he could say was that he had dried out and woke up next to a warm fire, everything else was a disaster. The company he had joined last night gave him a great deal of information and virtually none of it had been remotely good. The monsters, _the Darkspawn_ were out to kill everyone they could find and this mad place had decided that now was the perfect time for a good old fashioned power struggle. Finally (they probably decided to the leave the best till last) Robert and Bethany had then told him about the Templars. Rincewind was the first to admit that Magic was at best a nuisance and at worst a public menace, but having an order of heavily armed warriors rounding up anyone with magic abilities and throwing them in tower? That seemed like an explosive catastrophe waiting to happen, not to mention very inconvenient. Still the fact that they wore full plate armour was reassuring.

_If the worst happens I can still outrun them._

Despite all this bad news he left the refugees determined to find the Luggage and get out of here as quickly and painlessly as possible. Of course once that thought crossed his mind he realised he was completely doomed and only had himself to blame for thinking that.

Equally doomed, at least in his mind, were the fireside refugees. Why they decided to run to a city that was, for all intended purposes, run by these Templars when even the most fleeting glance at Bethany made it clear she could wield magic was simply baffling. There again the mother seemed hopelessly nostalgic and Robert was an idiot with a terrible sense of humour. They even suggested that he join them. That line might have worked on the redhead Aveline but he had enough problems without travelling to a city that sounded even crazier than Ankh Morpork.

Rincewind now turned to his new map. He had absolutely no idea where to start his search.

"Are you lost? Perhaps I can be of assistance."

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"So this is Denerim. It certainly smells like a large city. I would have thought with all this surface air it might be…fresher."

"This entire country smells of wet dog and rotten waste." Growled Sten, his large form covered by a cloak dripping with persistent rainwater.

"How do we get in?" asked Alistair.

"We keep our hoods up and weapons concealed. If anyone asks we're refugees, no shortage of them so it shouldn't arouse suspicions." Decided Odin before turning to look at the rest of the group frowning. "Only Alistair, Leliana, Zevran, Wynne and me will go, we're the least likely to be noticed or recognised."

"You've done this before Warden" said Zevran with an approving grin on his face.

"This city may be on the surface but I bet the rules for dodging city guards remain the same and I've been doing it most of my life, if only to avoid a beating." Replied Odin in a glib tone before going back to business "We go in, visit this brother Genitivi and get out."

"And meet my sister" added Alistair happily.

"Yes, of course." Agreed Odin, it was a complication he could do without but the Dwarf could sympathise. After all he had left his own family back in Orzammar and intended to see them while sorting out that particular treaty. He tried not to think about it too much because he was worried; Rica had assured him she had got a noble patron but what if it hadn't worked out? Or had she lied to get him to accept Duncan's offer? As if he would have declined such an offer, best opportunity he had ever had. Not that he had much choice of course, considering the number of people who wanted him dead.

Odin continued "The rest of you will have to find some shelter out here and wait for our return, Morrigan perhaps you could keep a bird's eye view on us?"

"As you wish" the witch looked particularly smug this morning, though given what had occurred in her tent the night before…Odin could understand why she was in such a good mood. Even with Alistair making gagging noises behind their backs and Wynne's disapproving frown.

"The rest of you stay out of trouble." The Warden looked particularly hard at the walking chest and the dog. Both seemed to give him completely innocent looks in return. How the chest managed to do this without eyes would baffle Odin Brosca for years to come.

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Rincewind turned round to face the new arrival; she seemed to be an older woman, though her figure was full. Her hair was arranged in a rather odd style; it looked almost as though she had horns. Her eyes however were golden and looked ancient, as though they seen everything before. The hairs on the back of Rincewind's neck prickled. A powerful witch, an ordinary women with a taste for drama or something else all together? He didn't know but his well developed sixth sense for danger was going mad. But he did need help; he would be cautious, and polite, very polite.

He used his most sycophantic smile and asked "A pleasure to meet you my lady. May I know your name?"

The woman seemed to appreciate the effort. "My, my, such manners, always in the last place you look. As to my name well, names are petty but useless. Strange then that I have acquired so many of them, you however may call me Flemeth."

_Whoever she is she certainly enjoys being mysterious, almost as much as the sound of her own voice._ That thought Rincewind kept firmly to himself while he asked "What, if I may ask, is the help you can offer me?"

She smiled "Life has become so very interesting of late; my swamp will seem very quiet when I return. A Blight claws at the land, a young king lies dead and civil war rages, that Loghain always did lack tact when he needed it most. Meanwhile heroes, of the present and the future, wonder the land and they always need old Flemeth to help them along. But a new actor has now entered this play from his own story, perhaps these tales should not have crossed."

"Um yes" said Rincewind, not quite sure what to make of that little speech. "But you see I have lost my…companion and I really need to find him and soon."

"Indeed, and by fate, or by chance we meet." Said Flemeth "Our paths have already crossed albeit indirectly, through mutual friends."

Rincewind did get that reference. "You've had dealings with the Hawke family?"

"Dealings would be the right word. I rescued them from the Darkspawn and they are delivering something of mine in return. The future of that family will change the world."

"Really?" said Rincewind, his scepticism getting the better of him "Even Robert?"

Flemeth laughed, loudly and with a rather menacing undertone. "It will take some years yet and will involve a lot of dungeons that will all look the same after a while, but the outcome is unchangeable, save for a few minor details. But right now both our eyes are on another small group with a far more interesting story."

"The Grey Wardens, do they have what I am looking for?" asked Rincewind with betted breath.

"They do, a most curious creation, you are fortunate. For a reasonable price I can tell you which they were headed when they passed here several days ago."

Rincewind's sense of danger peaked once more at the mention of a deal but he could see no other option, except of course stalling while he made his mind up. "What are the terms of this agreement?"

Flemeth's smile looked ever more predatory "I give the information you need and in return, distant traveller, you tell me about your own magic and that of your companion. Portable luggage could be very useful to me in the near future and I do seem to keep losing my Grimoires. Now do we have deal? Some may call me The Woman of Many Years but my time is not endless."

Rincewind hesitated; he was not after all the most talented of Wizards. Well that was an understatement, damn the Octavo.

"Of course" said Flemeth, her smirk getting wider as she moved forward with swaying hips "I may have another way for you to get the knowledge you require. I guarantee you'll enjoy it… at least for a while."

If Rincewind wasn't terrified and suspicious already he would have been at the implications of the sentence, not that the older, dragon shape shifting, elder witch was entirely unattractive…

_Focus! This is a trap, start thinking with your head!_

Rincewind managed to pull himself together, more or less. Surely a cunning chap like him could find a brilliant way out of this situation?

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End file.
